


One Last Piece of Candy

by elistaire



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Community: spook_me, F/M, Gen, Halloween, Spook Me Multi-Fandom Halloween Ficathon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-26
Updated: 2012-10-26
Packaged: 2017-11-17 01:31:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/546135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elistaire/pseuds/elistaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teenaged Charles is hanging out with a friend, getting ready to go to a party.  But something is out there in the shadows, and it is very hungry....</p><p>~<br/><i><br/>Suddenly he felt an icy chill.  It started at the top of his head and snaked its way down his skin.  He shivered, and peered into the darkness of the neighborhood.  All the groups were gone, and the sidewalks were barren.   </i></p><p>
  <i>"Who's there?" he asked.  He could feel the fuzzy nature of something out there.  Thinking about loneliness, and solitariness.  The coldness of the grave.  "Who's out there?" Charles called again.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Last Piece of Candy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for spook_me 2012! Based upon this picture challenge: [Spook_me Prompt 2012](http://i879.photobucket.com/albums/ab353/spook_me/Spook_me%20Fairie%20Tales/f7fad077174a41491509e39b4fe8d85406f3da1c_m.jpg)

"The candy is right there," Brad pointed, and Charles stretched out an arm to snag the bowl. "Can you handle it?" 

"Sure," Charles said. With a sloppy mock-salute, he opened the door. 

"Trick-or-treat!" called out two witches, one ghost, a pirate, and a black cat. Down on the sidewalk, a mother held a baby swaddled up like a banana. 

"Treat, of course," said Charles, and he doled out a candy bar into each child's bag. 

"Thank you," each one said as they received their treat, and then turned and scampered away. 

"They'll be thick as thieves in this neighborhood for another hour," Brad said. "But it's too early to go to the party."

"I don't mind," Charles said. "We never got any trick-or-treaters at my house. Not enough neighbors."

Brad grinned. "Then I'll let you handle the kids. I'm going to see if I can't find ay more silver paint. Otherwise, we can't both go as Martians. One of us will have to be something else."

"Green paint would work also," Charles said, just as the doorbell binged again. He turned to open it, and three little cowboys stood there. 

"Trick-or-treat!" they yelled in unison. 

Charles dropped candy into each bag and waved to them as they left. He stood on the porch for a moment and watched them go to the next house. He could see flashlights moving all up and down the sidewalks. Another group of kids was on the way and would be at the door in a few minutes. Charles looked right and saw the very beginning edge of the cemetery next door. It was a little cemetery, really just full of about a dozen headstones, all belonging to those who had once lived on the farm that had become the neighborhood. He watched as the children bolted past the little plot of land, sometimes screaming with terrified joy, to wait on the other side for their very brave, and slower, parents to catch up to them. 

Charles smiled and shook his head. It was so pleasant to be here to watch this. It was his senior year in high school, and the first year he'd been somewhere other than his too-cavernous mansion for Halloween. He and Brad had become friends while running on the cross country team, and they'd learned of the Halloween party being held by a few of the football players, and actually been invited to attend. 

October in upstate New York could be quite cold, but this night was only cool and a little crisp. Charles decided to give up on opening and closing the door, and sit on the stairs to the porch with the bowl of candy. 

After an hour of giving away candy, the bowl was close to empty, and the streets were thinning out. 

One last father watched as his son, dressed as a hobo, came meandering up toward the house. The father gave Charles a nod as the candy went into the bag. 

"Not a bad night for it," he said. 

"We were lucky and had mild weather," Charles agreed. 

The father looked over his shoulder. "Time to head in, I think. It's getting late."

"Good night!" Charles called. He watched them walk away, and he put his arms behind him and leaned back into his shoulders. He glanced up at the sky. His head was full of the pleasant buzz of children's thoughts about hurrying and getting more candy, and not tripping on their costumes, and parents' mild indulgence, and their love for their children. It had almost the same effect on him as alcohol, he noted. He felt warm and happy, buoyant with the joy of a frightening night, a night made scary on purpose, to chase the ghosts away. 

Brad opened the door behind him. "Did the ghouls get you?" he asked. "You were out here all night! We need to get ready. Are you coming? I found some more paint."

"I'll be right there," Charles said. He felt positively lightheaded from all the trick-or-treaters that he'd given candy to. Each time he'd dropped a piece of candy, he could feel the anticipation of the child, already thinking ahead to eating all that sugar. He wondered if he shouldn't have asked for a "trick" instead of giving "treats" all night long. It would certainly have astounded the little children.

Suddenly he felt an icy chill. It started at the top of his head and snaked its way down his skin. He shivered, and peered into the darkness of the neighborhood. All the groups were gone, and the sidewalks were barren. 

"Who's there?" he asked. He could feel the fuzzy nature of _something_ out there. Thinking about loneliness, and solitariness. The coldness of the grave. "Who's out there?" Charles called again. 

Then, out of the shadows, came movement. 

Charles strained his eyes. He stood up and put a hand on the doorknob, ready to bolt inside. It was bright there, and safe from the dangers of the night. 

The far-off movement shifted closer, and closer still. Silhouettes began to take shape in the murky darkness. Those of little children. Soot-colored, and fuzzy at the edges. But still, they were children. 

A small group of them trailed up the sidewalk, their heads tilted up, and staring at Charles. 

They were dressed like street urchins, like something out of a Dickens novel, with hats and solid shoes. They were smudged with dust. They kept moving, closer, and closer, until they were nearly in front of Charles. 

He kept a hand on the doorknob. He could slip inside at any moment, and escape. 

"Trick-or-treat!" the shadowy children called, in reed-like voices, and Charles couldn't feel anything from them as he had with the other children earlier in the night. These beings had insubstantial thoughts, though the emotions coming off them were the same as earlier. 

"Are you...are you ghosts?" Charles asked. He looked down the path and could see two shadowy figures there, like the mother and father. 

One of the adult figures motioned to Charles, and he realized he was not doing his job. He dropped a piece of candy into each waiting hand that was outstretched. Charles held his breath, waiting to see if the ghost-children would turn and leave. 

One of the littlest figures paused as the others began to retreat. It leaned forward, pressing into Charles' space. Charles could feel his heart start to hammer inside his chest. It was reaching for him-- 

Charles felt it's feather-light touch as it reached into the bowl that he was holding, and grasped the last bar of chocolate. Charles relaxed--it had only wanted a second piece of candy! Not to harm him at all. 

A scolding noise came from one of the parents, and the littlest child paused. 

"Take it," Charles said. "Go ahead, keep it."

The littlest one closed its hand around its bounty and scampered back down the path, catching up to its siblings. After a moment, all of them faded from sight, and melded back into the shadows. 

Charles sagged against the house. 

The door opened and Brad popped his head out. "Charles, are you coming or not?"

"Brad!" Charles exclaimed. "I just saw a whole entourage of ghost children come up here and take candy from me! You've got to believe me!"

An odd look crossed Brad's face. "Really," he said. He turned to look into the dark. "I believe you, Charles. I do."

"You do?" Charles asked.

Brad nodded. "I used to see them every year when I was younger. But hadn't seen them in awhile."

"Who are they?"

"The house across the street burned down back in the twenties. Killed the parents and their five kids. We think its them."

"And they trick-or-treat each year?" Charles asked, astounded. 

"Yeah," Brad said. "My mom says the veil is thin on Halloween. And there are those of us with eyes to see." Brad looked guilty for a split-second. "I should have warned you about them. But I thought they didn't come anymore. You have to have candy left to give them, or else--"

"Or else what?" Charles asked. He'd had enough candy, but only just. The bowl was empty now. 

"Or I don't know. You just give them candy." Brad punched Charles lightly on the shoulder. "Come on. We're gonna be late to the party."

"Okay," Charles said, still shaken by what he'd seen. But he was safe now, and the ghosts were gone, and there was a party to go to. He was looking forward to finding the company of a few of his female classmates. He rubbed his hands together in expectation. "Let's get moving!"

~~~ 

Later, after the party, Charles returned to Brad's house. He was tired and itchy from the silver paint, which was flaking off his skin at an alarming rate. He'd spent the better part of an hour in the closet with a girl from a neighboring school, and he had her number in his pocket. 

He yawned and considered his options. Sleep over at Brad's, which meant sleeping on the floor. Ask one of Brad's parents to drive him home. Or call the house and get a car sent for him. He supposed he should just sleep on the floor. It would cause the least amount of trouble. 

Charles reached into his pocket to touch the slip of paper with the girl's number and realized it wasn't there. He panicked, and then thought for a moment. It was in his jacket pocket, and he'd left his jacket in Brad's mom's car. 

Charles loped outside to retrieve the jacket. He paused with his hand on the car door handle. There was an inky fuzziness to the night, just at the end of the driveway, and it was growing closer. 

He sucked in a breath, having waited too long to puzzle out the mystery, and the charcoal-dark figure was upon him. It's cold limbs scratched at him lightly, pleading, begging, demanding. 

"I don't have any candy," Charles said. 

The figure pressed upon him more insistently, urgently. It's hands were patting him down, dipping into his pockets, looking and searching. 

"I don't have any," Charles repeated, and realized this was the exact wrong thing to say. The creature reared up its head, and all he could see were its sharp, bright teeth. It was a hungry grin, full of malice, and utter delight. _It's going to eat me instead,_ Charles thought, _because I've no candy to satisfy it._ "Wait!" Charles cried. He clawed at the door handle to the car and grabbed for his jacket. The girl. The girl in the closet! She'd given him--

__He found it. The lollipop. She'd taken three licks of it, and he'd been mesmerized by her lush mouth, and then, to be ridiculously flirty, she'd stuck the lollipop in his mouth. Cherry, and harshly sweet, Charles remembered the particular flavor of it, in his mouth, and on her lips. They'd hidden in the closet, then, and he hadn't even thought of the lollipop, but of course, he'd absentmindedly stuck it in his pocket, sticky and tacky. It was covered with lint now, and the stick was crooked and slightly soggy._ _

__"Here!" he cried and brandished it at the ghost, which was actually licking its chops, eyeballing him up and down, pinching the tender flesh under his upper arm._ _

__The thing's eyes actually lit up--as if it were more pleased by the lollipop than by devouring Charles, and it took the lollipop, and turned to go, drifting into the night, becoming one with the shadows. Finally, it was gone._ _

__Charles, shaking and shuddering, fled back inside. He'd sleep the night on the floor, and be glad of it. As he went, he passed a bowl of candy and shoved handfuls into his pockets, and vowed never to go anywhere again without even a stick of chewing gum._ _


End file.
